Weirdsville, USA
by damnitjillkatherine
Summary: A simple little job in a strange little town. Rated for language.


**Weirdsville, USA**

Disclaimer: Oh, if only they were mine.  
Rating: T for language  
Summary: A simple little job in a strange little town.  
Note: I know writing _yourself_ into stories is generally frowned upon, but what about setting one in your town? I couldn't really help myself.

* * *

"I think I found us a job."

Dean glances up from his car magazine. "Oh good, I was starting to get bored in the…" he looks at his watch, "nine and a half hours since we finished the last one. Workaholic," he says, flipping a page.

"It looks like an easy salt and burn, and we're only eight hours away. Two people in the last three months have fallen from this lighthouse, and locals claim it's haunted by a little girl who died there," Sam says, reading off a webpage.

"I guess that does sound easy. Where's the lighthouse?"

"North Florida. Town called St. Augustine."

"Aw man, I hate Florida," Dean whines.

"What? Why? We've been there, like, twice," says Sam.

"Well, let's see. The last time we were in Florida, I died a hundred times." Sam makes his I-see-your-point face. "But aside from that, it's too hot, too humid, and too weird."

"Dean, we _live _weird."

"Yeah, but not Florida-weird. You ever read some of the headlines from down there? Seriously fucked-up shit happens in Florida." Sam rolls his eyes.

"It'll be fine, Dean. We shouldn't have to stay more than a couple days. Maybe you can go ogle girls at the beach. That'll make you feel better." A happy, lecherous grin passes briefly over Dean's face before he scowls again.

"Fine. But if there are alligators, I'm letting _your _ass get eaten."

…

"What the hell are those?" Dean says, pointing at a pair of statues on either side of U.S. Highway 1.

"Conquistadors," said Sam, looking up from the tourist pamphlets he'd gotten at the Florida welcome station.

"Conk-what?"

"Conquistadors. Spanish explorers. This is an old Spanish city," says Sam.

"Uh huh. Where are we going?"

"Turn here. We're going through the downtown and over a bridge. The motel is just across the bay." Dean nods and concentrates on maneuvering the Impala through the narrow streets of St. Augustine. Everything is smaller than the usual towns they visit. It reminds him a little of the Scottish town they'd toured after digging up Crowley. They pass an old stone fort and cross an antique-looking bridge, pulling into a run-down looking "inn" on the other side. The rooms are nothing special, kitschy old-Florida décor, but the view off the back patio is pretty nice. Even Dean has to admit that it was better than their usual digs. The water makes him wonder.

"Hey Sam, how is it that ghosts can stand to be near the ocean, or on ghost ships? Wouldn't the salt air and water drive them away?"

"Huh." Sam ponders the question. "Beats me. Maybe it's not in high enough concentration."

"I bet it bugs 'em, though. Like a bad allergy." Dean grins, proud of his little joke. Sam chuckles.

"Right. So, the lighthouse is only about a mile away. I'm gonna do a little more research first, then we can head over there." Sam opens his laptop, fiddles for bit, then closes the lid. "Nevermind. There's no wifi in this dump. Wanna go to the Alligator Farm?"

Dean just glares at him.

…

They end up shoulder-to-shoulder on a tiny bench on a tiny cobblestone street, leeching wireless signal from a tiny apartment above a tiny pirate shop. As Sam surfs the websites of the lighthouse and the ghost-hunting groups that have toured it, Dean simply stares at the people walking by.

"Dude, that guy is wearing a sword, three pistols, and a mug."

"And?" Sam says, looking up briefly.

"And nobody's batting an eye! No one thinks it's weird! He's carrying _guns_!"

"Yeah, flintlock guns. He's a re-enactor, Dean. This town is full of them."

"This town is full of _weird,_" says Dean, eyeing the man warily.

…

Between the TAPS website and the very enthusiastic testimony from a lighthouse volunteer, it seems like it'll be a simple salt and burn, until they find out that the girl is buried in the old cemetery right by the city gates, smack in the middle of downtown, which happens to be a very popular spot for ghost tours.

"Ghost tours? Really?" says Dean. "What is _wrong _with this town?"

"Apparently, the paranormal stuff is pretty big here," says Sam, scrolling through the city's tourism website. "You can't go ten feet without bumping into a tour or a place that sells them. We're gonna have to do this at, like, three in the morning to avoid them."

"Great. What do we do 'til then?" They both turn their heads as a girl dressed in a skimpy pirate getup goes sashaying past them.

"People-watch?"

…

They pick a local hangout right across the street from the cemetery, a little Irish pub with tables on the porch where they can sit and watch the tour trolleys and the horse carriages go by. In the space of two hours, they see a man out for his evening jog with a parrot on his shoulder, a pickup truck with a goat in the bed, an old lady walking her cat on a leash, three more pirates, and six ghost tours. Sam reads a newspaper story about a naked man running into the old fort and getting Tased.

"Seriously, this is a messed-up town," Dean says, reaching for his third beer.

"Come on, it's not that bad. Little on the weird side, but it _is _a tourist trap. There's some great history here. Did you know this town is forty-two years older than Jamestown?"

"Did _you _know that I don't give a rat's ass? Where the hell is Jamestown?" Dean grumbles.

"Dude, did you pay _any_ attention in history class? Jamestown, Virginia. First English colony. Most people think that's where the country began, but this Spanish city was already here for years!" Dean eyes his brother warily - Sam was getting that Excited Geek look - then leans over and snatches the tour pamphlets out of his hands.

"No more research for you, Sammy. That's not even vaguely job-related. Drink your beer, ya nerd." Sam huffs and raises his glass but grabs the brochures back up as soon as Dean puts them on the table. Dean is too busy laughing at the Segway tour to notice.

…

St. Augustine shuts down early. Even on a Saturday night, most places are half empty by midnight, with only a few hardcore spots making it to the 2 a.m. mandatory closing time. Even so, the boys realize there's no way they'll be able to dig up the grave without being noticed. The cheesy ghost tours have stopped, thank god, but there are still hard-core "paranormalists" snapping photos, freaking out over "orbs" - "Clean your fuckin' lens, asshole!" Dean hollers at a group of them. Not to mention the homeless people sleeping against the wall surrounding the cemetery.

"Son of a bitch. Now what?" Dean says.

"Pose as archaeologists?" Sam suggests. "It seems like they're always digging for something around here. We just can't do it at night."

"Great. So we get to stay another day in Weirdsville."

…

They start at first light, hoping to minimize questioning, but even at 6:30 in the morning, there are tourists out and about. The jumpsuits with the city logo seem to have the public fooled, which means that the boys get tons of questions about the history of the cemetery and about their "archaeological work". Dean graciously volunteers to do all the digging, leaving Sam to bullshit his way through the questions, trying desperately to remember some of the terms he learned in Archaeology 101. By the time they reach the bones, there's a small crowd amassed outside the cemetery wall, watching their every move with fascination.

"What the hell do we do now, genius?" Dean hisses at his brother. "We can't torch the bones. Even if the fire's small, these idiots will see the smoke."

"I guess we'll have to box them up and take them somewhere else to burn. I'll go find something that looks vaguely official." Sam starts to head towards the gate, but Dean grabs the back of his jumpsuit.

"And leave me here to answer question? No fuckin' way. I'll go." Dean elbows his way through their audience and heads towards the Impala. He comes back ten minutes later with a green ammo can.

"Dean, that's not very official looking."

"It's all we had, Sammy. Now box her up."

…

It's 10:30 before they get the remains packed up, the grave filled back in, and all the questions answered. As the boys make their way across the street to where the Impala is parked, the sound of an explosion rips across the bay and echoes back towards the city. In a flash, Dean has his gun out and is searching frantically for the source of the noise.

"What the hell was that?!" he hisses. Sam grabs the gun out of his brother's hand and stuffs it into the pocket of Dean's jacket.

"Dean! You can't wave a gun around in the street! Not a modern one, anyway," he says, watching yet another pistol-laden Jack Sparrow wannabe tilt his way down the sidewalk.

"Well excuse the hell out of me, I was a little concerned about the fucking _explosion_!"

"Dude, it was just a cannon," Sam says, calm as can be.

"Just a- _just a cannon_?! Okay, it's official, I hate this town."

…

They sweet-talk their way into the state park next to the lighthouse, convincing the ranger in the ticket booth that they're visiting grandparents in the campground. They pick a site with no campers on either side, get a fire going in the fire pit, and burn the girl's bones, extra salty. As they're waiting for the flames to die down, Sam pulls out the park map the ranger had given them.

"Hey, there's beach access at this end of the park. Wanna go check it out?" Dean is about to protest - no friggin' way, too much sand in the car - but he sees the hopeful little-boy look on Sam's face and caves.

"Fine. But I'm not gonna rescue you if a gator comes out of the water.

"Dean, it's the Atlantic Ocean. Alligators are only in fresh water."

"God, you're such a nerd." They bicker about Florida wildlife all the way to the end of the boardwalk, but Dean shuts up as soon as he catches sight of the bikini-clad girls lining the beach. "I changed my mind," he says. "I love Florida. God bless Spring Break!"

* * *

Note: It's all true. I have seen/heard all those weird little things. Don't get me wrong, I love this place, but I had a feeling Dean would hate it!


End file.
